flickering gray (it fades to white)
by eleutheromaniac
Summary: It happened sometime long ago in the haze of his memories: sunlight, warm smiles, gunshots, blood; Tifa remembers it clearly though, remembers how innocent she was, how hopeful and idealistic—how the angel fell from the sky and went right through her body as though it were meant to be. It's ironic how the heavens rip the good away from us much too soon.


"Tifa! Tifa! Where's Cloud?"

The brunette says nothing for a moment and chooses to keep her back towards the children so they don't have to see the broken nature of her expression. It's Christmas and they've both been through so much so they don't deserve to see anything that could potentially remind them of their pain.

With a strained smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, Tifa turns to face the eager grins of Denzel and Marlene—who are basically bouncing up and down with excitement. "He's still upstairs resting a bit, but I'm sure he'll come down soon! You know how Cloud is on days like this."

Marlene pouts, "Even on Christmas?" It's clear that as the words leave her mouth she experiences immediate guilt, covering her lips quickly as though she can't believe she allowed herself to say it. Denzel can't blame her for the transgression—he had almost made the same mistake.

Tifa holds in a sigh as she looks at the pitiful scene before her: two raggedy kids electrified by guilty excitement, a lumpy tree strewn with strings of popcorn in the corner of the bar, polaroids from Christmases past of goofy smiles and drunken laughs, handmade presents wrapped haphazardly with the colors of flowers and blood and faded memories that refuse to go away entirely. Rays of sunlight burn through the glass of the window and Tifa wants to say something about how it's not the fact that it's Christmas that's making Cloud the way he is, but rather the tragic purity of the light.

But it's not like she's not hurting too. It's not like she's ever _not_ hurting.

She clenches a fist.

"Don't be too upset with him. Here, I'll go talk to him now, okay? Why don't you two finish up the decorations for when everyone else gets here?"

Denzel opens his mouth to raise some sort of objection, but Marlene—still feeling bad about her previous outburst—quickly hushes him and drags him away by the arm to find the tablecloths and fancy plates.

Tifa allows a small grin to break the wall of her features before walking up the stairs, turning a sharp corner, and closing the door to a room that's definitely not Cloud's every so softly because she gets it. Denzel and Marlene are too young to fully understand but it's okay because they don't need to and she hopes that they'll never understand because understanding will only bring them pain and heartache and broken tears rolling down bloodied cheeks.

But she gets it. And that's enough.

* * *

It's not guilt anymore and Cloud knows that: it's the feeling of losing the companionship of someone you loved (no, _love_ ), someone who meant more than the world, someone who _didn't deserve to die_. There's this hole inside the very essence of his being that won't disappear and it's likely because of the way the stupid sun shines so stupidly bright, combined with the clear blueness of the day outside and the fact that it still _hurts_ , goddammit.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not work yourself up so much over this? I thought you were over it already!"

Tired blue looks up to meet the smug grin etched into his memory. "Zack…"

"That's my name!" the brunet responds cheerfully, "Don't wear it out!"

Something like a choked sob escapes the blond's throat as he tears himself away from the image of his best friend before him. "You're not really here, Zack. You're dead. I'm just imagining you."

"You don't know that for sure," he states calmly, as though he's not just an illusion and that he never died and that he's still here, on Christmas morning, ready to open the gifts under the tree. "Why do you always have to think that the problem is _your_ fault? I could be just as real as anyone else."

Cloud's too afraid to meet his gaze, even though its weight feels like a heavy burden on his shoulders. He's shaking now, trembling in the clothes that are too big for his frame and too fine for his skin. "That doesn't mean that you _are_ though, and it doesn't mean that this _isn't_ my fault." The blond pauses for a moment, inhales the air before him as though it'll smell like pine and sweat and citrus—it doesn't. He exhales. "No one else can see you, Zack," he whispers, "But I see you every night."

No response.

"Am I going crazy?"

He imagines that there's an added weight on the bed beside him, that someone strong and warm is wrapping an arm around his shoulders to protect him from the jumbled memories of light and heartache and confusion. "No," comes the soft reply. "Crazy's such a stupid word, don't you think? Cloud, you're just _you_. And you have to learn that that's okay."

"It's not okay when I can't think straight sometimes or when I'm so overwhelmed by emptiness that I feel like nothing and everything is real at the same time. It's not okay when I can't communicate how I feel to people because I don't know how to say the words right or when I push people away because I'm not sure how to let them in anymore. It's not okay when I feel like I don't know who I am because it's _so hard_ to figure out what's me and what's you and what was just inspired by you and what just _isn't_." Something inside Cloud says that crying would be stupid, would just make him look weak, but the temptation to give in becomes more and more enticing as the seconds tick on.

Cloud isn't sure if Zack's silence is only because the latter is just a figment of his imagination and receiving comfort from himself is basically impossible, or if it's because Zack is _actually_ here and is _actually_ coming up with a genuine response for him. When the brunet finally breaks the silence, it's with a small, reassuring smile that Cloud is too scared to see and the light, "It's okay to cry though, you know. Denzel and Marlene—yeah, they look up to you a lot. But you have to remember to be strong for yourself too and not just for them. Crying can make you strong too, Cloud."

And that's when he finally allows the tears to roll down his cheeks, finally allows himself to look up at the hazy figure before him. There are so many emotions that he wants to express, so many thoughts that he wants to be able to articulate, but all that comes out is a choked, " _Zack_ ," and muffled sobs quietened by the teeth on his fist. "Zack, I'm _not okay_."

Callused hands softly stroke his back.

"And that's okay."

* * *

"I worry about him too sometimes, you know? He's always moping now. He used to be so confident, so sure of himself."

Tifa doesn't even flinch at the sudden intrusion of the voice. "That wasn't _him_ , though—it was Zack. I thought that he had managed to figure out who he really was, but I'm sure that he will eventually. You just have to give him some time."

The green-eyed girl giggles softly from her seated position on the windowsill, "Remember when _I_ used to be the patient one? I guess time does change a lot of things about people. It's so strange to think about."

A part of Tifa is scared to turn around to face the presence in the room, but another part longs for that unforgettable smile and its radiating warmth. She's lying chest-down on the bed, head turned towards the wall and away from the sunlight that the window provides, choosing to resist the temptation of the illusion behind her. "It's not that you're being _im_ patient. You're just anxious for Cloud to get better, and there's nothing wrong with that. I know that he will. I just can't rush him."

The only response she receives is a short hum. Theres's a sound of shuffling movements, and suddenly an added weight on the bed as the figure flops down beside Tifa: arms splayed out, brown hair strewn across the pale whiteness of the pillow, and pink dress coloring the emptiness of the bed.

"Aerith!" the younger girl squeaks in surprise, only causing her elder to laugh a little harder at the reaction.

"I felt like you were ignoring me and I didn't think that was very fun."

Subconsciously, Tifa feels her lips twist upwards, and before she's even realized what she's done, she flips herself into a seated position facing the green-eyed girl for the first time in a long time.

She's shocked to see what she does.

There's a gaping, bloody hole in the center of Aerith's abdomen, red still oozing out onto the pink innocence of her dress. Her skin has a ghostly pallor that seems too pale to be natural and she's drenched in something that Tifa can't quite identify but is urged to believe is just water.

As though noticing her widened gaze, Aerith allows a sad smile. "Sorry about that. You see me the way you remember me." Something twists inside Tifa at the words and her thoughts flicker to someone else and—"You're right. Cloud doesn't see _him_ the way you see me. It's different for each person, you know?"

And no, Tifa _doesn't_ know. She doesn't understand why this started happening and she's not quite sure that she's enjoying it very much. All she knows is that the tears are now threatening to spill forth but she's been strong for _so long_ and now isn't the time for her to break.

"L-Look, this—whatever _this_ is—needs to stop. I was fine before this started—"

"No, you weren't."

"—and now I can't even function properly without feeling like I have the entire world on my shoulders," she finishes, only vaguely annoyed that the other girl had decided to interrupt her.

It's clear that Aerith is aware of this when she narrows her eyes in a teasing fashion before stating, " _Or_ it's just something that you've been avoiding this entire time. That would make sense too, wouldn't it?"

Tifa doesn't want to admit that she's _right_ , but she knows that she can't really call her _wrong_ either. "Either way, I need to go and get Cloud downstairs so that Marlene and Denzel stop feeling so anxious. The others will be arriving soon and I have to make sure that everything's in order for the party tonight."

The green-eyed girl doesn't say anything and Tifa's honestly too scared to look back at her for some kind of response. Instead, she stands up from the bed and advances towards the door.

"You're not leaving."

The words make her stop in her tracks.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ that you're not leaving," comes the innocent giggle.

And Tifa's world goes black.

* * *

" _You probably shouldn't have done that."_

" _You're not wrong. She was being silly though."_

" _Her head's going to hurt_ so _badly when she wakes up."_

" _She was being stubborn. At least Cloud acknowledges that you exist."_

" _To be fair, Cloud's talked to both of us for a longer period of time. Tifa's been in this weird pseudo-denial stage."_

" _Everyone deals with things on their own, don't be mean."_

"I' _m not being mean!_ You' _re the one who knocked her out!"_

" _I was being_ helpful _, not mean. Stop trying to pin me as the bad guy."_

" _Hey, you know I didn't mean it that way!"_

 _She giggles and looks up at him, takes in his smiling eyes and the dust in his hair and the way he shimmers in the sunlight. Whenever she's with him, everything always seems a bit lighter._

" _I know," she says. And she turns away for a moment to stare at the broken blond boy not so far away. "Cloud's going to be alright."_

" _Once Tifa gets over the bump on her head, she'll be on the road to recovery too. Cloud will help her."_

" _We could help too, you know."_

 _He allows a small grin at this before ruffling her hair and successfully messing up her braid. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves now."_

 _And the sound that escapes her throat is like the jingling of bells in the distance, like blooming daisies and laughing children_ — _of the life that he could have lived. Whenever he's with her, everything always seems a bit more melancholy._

 _As if on cue, they turn their backs to one another, skin grazing skin, and stare off into their respective distances._

"Hey, it's time for you to wake up now."

"You're going to be alright. I'm always going to be here for you."

" _It's time_."

* * *

Sometimes we look at ourselves in the mirror and fail to even recognize ourselves: did I always have that mole there, why do I look so tired, is my hair beginning to thin, that's not me, that's not me, _that's not me_.

We lose ourselves in our thoughts and in our labels in this desperate search for answers that don't exist, that aren't important. There's this eternal struggle to find purpose within our lives, to attribute meaning to every little aspect of our existence when _meaning_ isn't _nearly_ as important as _being._

What we'll eventually realize is that the glass that we stare at with such confusion is permanently tainted, smeared with rust and chipped by what people say is "normal" and "right". And because we don't know better, we begin to take these mistakes as reality, critiquing ourselves for things that we've been taught matter when they actually don't.

We are what we are. What people say or what people think will never change that.

 _You are you_.

* * *

When her eyes open, she's greeted with two worried stares and another that's a cross between concern and acceptance.

"She's awake!"

The light in the room is blinding and Tifa's suffering from this massive headache that she realizes must come from hitting her head on the ground. But how did she fall? She squints at her lack of memories, rubbing the sore on her head, before rationalizing that dwelling so heavily on the past wouldn't really fix what's happening in the present.

Something inside her jolts with a start.

"Oh, Tifa," Marlene cries, throwing herself into the older woman's arms, "We were all so worried!"

"W-What happened?"

Denzel shrugs, reverting to a façade of indifference that falls through with his trembling voice, "We just heard a bang from downstairs, and when we rushed up here, the door was locked. It wouldn't open until Cloud tried his hand at it, but for some reason, we weren't able to find him for a whole hour!"

The brunette blinks at this before turning to the blond in confusion.

To her surprise, he actually allows a small smile. "I don't remember disappearing. _Obviously_ Denzel and Marlene are just bad at looking."

Both children quickly turn to face him with pure appallment written on their features.

"W-What?"

"No way!"

Cloud nods anyway, "Yep, as far as _I_ know, I've been here the whole time."

Marlene huffs at this, clearly affronted by his transgression. "If you've been here the whole time, then why didn't you rush to the door when Tifa collapsed? She could have been having a heart attack and we wouldn't have known!"

He slowly brings his gaze to meet that of the woman on the bed, and when Tifa stares back at him, she realizes that this isn't the Cloud from before; the man in front of her radiates an aura of comfort that isn't _quite_ confidence but seems to transcend the definition of the word himself. Gone is the apprehension and the confusion and the empty gazes. Gone are the sleepless nights and the days without food and the nervous pacing at three in the morning. She can feel it, she _knows_ he's different. He's genuine remarks and teasing sarcasm and sparkling eyes and this version of _him_ that she imagined him to be, back when he left Nibelheim all those years ago.

"I was with her the entire time. You guys have no faith in me."

A silence ensues as both Marlene and Denzel are unable to overcome their shock at the simple statement. Tifa herself finds that she's unable to come up with any words as well.

"I locked the door because I didn't want you to worry. I'm the adult here, so let me be the one to bear the responsibilities, okay? Everything's going to be alright."

Everyone in the room is stunned and Marlene can't quite explain why, but there are tears lining her eyes.

The moment is sharply interrupted when they hear the door downstairs being thrown open and the booming, "Marlene, sweetie! Daddy's home!" Followed by an annoyed, "God do you always have to be so _loud_?"

Both children gasp in excitement, and after glancing at both Cloud and Tifa for approval to rush away from the scene, they shoot each other wide smiles and dash down the stairs.

When they leave, the silence returns.

"Hey… Are you okay?"

She nods slowly, "I-I guess. Are you?"

"No." The admission shocks her and she quickly turns to him in surprise. "Tifa, I have a lot of problems within myself and I don't think that they're going to be solved anytime soon. But these problems, they're _part of me_ , they make me who I am. And I think that I've finally realized that I can't get better if I don't accept that. So in a way, I guess that makes me more okay than I have been in a long time," he admits with a sheepish smile.

She doesn't know what to say.

At her shocked expression, Cloud releases a low chuckle before ruffling her hair. "I don't think the pain will ever fully go away, but that's okay. We're going to be alright, you hear?"

Before she even realizes it, tears have begun to roll down her cheeks in messy streaks and she isn't really sure what to do. She's been tired of being strong and now she realizes that all she wants is some time to admit to herself just how broken she is. It's hard to face the man before her now that she's aware of this, but the blond rests a gentle hand on her shoulder and offers her a warm smile. "Let's get you cleaned up for the party. Come on, Tifa, everyone's waiting."

She stares at his hand on her shoulder, then focuses back on the foreign glow within his eyes.

He helps her up. Leads her to the bathroom.

Something drops from the ceiling in that instant, something intangible and incoherent that leaves a single drop of relieved laughter for only a moment in time.

* * *

When they finally descend the staircase—Cloud clad in a suit a little too small for his slender frame and Tifa dolled up in a bright red dress—they're greeted with boisterous conversation and drunken slurs shouted in good taste. It's twilight now, the sky transitioning from vibrant orange to the sober purple of dusk, not that it matters when the world is cloaked in the warm green of Gaia—it's almost as though the colors are swirling layers of paint and the atmosphere seems to pulse with the heart of an unseen entity that continues to go unnamed as time passes.

Tifa's quickly pulled off by Marlene to talk some sense into Barret who's threatening to kill Reno and Rude for "crashing the party," and so Cloud takes it as a moment for him to momentarily stop what he's doing and stare out the window.

Reflected back at him is a flicker of sunlight, warm smiles, gunshots, and blood, followed by a ringing " _Hey, would you say that I became a hero_?" with a teasing smirk and mischievous eyes instead of transient ambience. He imagines that there's a man standing right outside the bar, tousled black hair gelled in messy spikes above his head and a flushed woman standing beside him with eyes as green as the painted town. They seem to be bickering about something—not seriously, of course—and then the man throws his head back in ringing laughter, ruffles her hair, and she looks flustered for a moment before decidedly elbowing him in the stomach. And then they both turn their attention to Cloud, staring at him through the window, and smile with this omnipotent fragility that he realizes he has to cherish because if he loses sight of it, it'll be gone from this world forever.

"Cloud! Are you alright?"

When he blinks, the figures by the window are gone and Denzel is looking up at him with a curious expression on his features.

"I was just remembering something."

If Denzel thinks this is odd in any way, he refrains from remarking on it. The dress shirt Marlene had forced him into has been rolled past his forearms and he looks kind of annoyed as he mumbles, "Reno tried to flirt with Tifa and now I think that Vincent and Cid are having trouble holding her and Barret back. You're probably going to have to step in."

He can't help but chuckle at this as fixes his tie and steps forward to assuage the situation.

It doesn't exactly work, and before long, there's an all out brawl with Yuffie cheering excitedly from the sidelines and Denzel and Marlene scrambling to ameliorate the situation.

" _Shouldn't we help them_?"

" _By what, knocking them all out and making the kids panic again again? Great plan, Aerith. Absolutely wonderful_."

 _She huffs at his evident lack of enthusiasm and snaps her fingers as though to prove a point_.

When everyone suddenly collapses to the floor, Yuffie's cheering hits an all-time high, and if it weren't for the gentle warmth that suddenly gushes through their bodies, it's likely that Marlene and Denzel would've attempted to pull out the first aid kit.

Instead, something suddenly overcomes Marlene and she carefully remarks, "You know… Tifa has a bunch of permanent markers stashed away behind the counter."

Denzel nods slowly. "Pretty sure that there are a few jars of glitter in the supply closet from when we were trying to make our own decorations earlier..."

Yuffie looks between the two, eyes sparkling with excitement and something inside her insists that this is definitely a good idea and another something inside her insists that this is only going to end badly.

She shrugs the latter off.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

They each dash to gather supplies as someone shouts, " _Ha, I told you so!_ " and another moans " _You've_ got _to be kidding me_."

* * *

 **author's note** : i'm honestly not sure what happened here. it was originally supposed to be a story enforcing the idea that no one can take away your identity but yourself, but then i got worried that this would be too dark for christmas and i honestly don't want happened i can't even explain myself OTL

hopefully you enjoyed it though? /shot merry christmas and a happy new year!


End file.
